Strawberry Gashes
by Dixie Darlin
Summary: It had stung, and she had cried, but after a minute or so, she had felt much better emotionally. (Trigger Warning: Self-harm/cutting)


_Title credit goes to the song 'Strawberry Gashes' by Jack Off Jill_

_**Trigger Warning**: **Self-harm, cutting**_

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**Strawberry Gashes**

She wasn't sure exactly why she had thought it would be a good idea. She had just been so...so _angry_ and _betrayed_, that it had been an impulse decision to roll up her jacket sleeve and slice at her delicate wrist. It had stung, and she had cried, but after a minute or so, she had felt much better emotionally. It was like her anguish was seeping out of her, having an escape route from her body via the little thin line of crimson liquid streaking across her skin.

When _Sugar Rush_ had been reset by its true leader, Taffyta had been overwhelmed with conflicting emotions. She still did, truth be told, but that first week had been the hardest. She had been King Candy's biggest fan, admiring his skill and technique on the track. He had been her biggest rival, and the two of them would exchange barbs with each other and rub it in when one of them beat the other. It was all in good fun, she'd thought. She'd never wished ill will on him for beating her in a race, or for getting chosen as a player's avatar.

And now to find out that he was a lie...that she had been tricked and made a fool of by the one person that she thought she could count on.

No, she wouldn't blame him for her bullying of Vanellope. He had certainly said for them to not trust her, and that she was a danger to the game, but he never outright decreed for them to harm her mercilessly. To make her life a living hell. As much as she wanted to blame him for everything so she could get the guilt off of her chest, she could not.

Vanellope seemed to be okay despite all the years of abuse that had been donned on her. Taffyta wasn't sure if she really _was_ okay, or if it was just a mask she wore to prove to others that she was tough and that nothing was going to get her down. Taffyta couldn't help but think that she still deep-down hated her...hated her for what she had done to her all those years. Pushed her, kicked her, told her how worthless she was.

And now Taffyta felt like the worthless one.

Some nights, she wouldn't be able to sleep. Restless thoughts flying through her head. She shouldn't blame herself for what happened, but she did. She shouldn't miss _him, _but she did. She shouldn't get jealous over Vanellope getting chosen more than her by the players, or using her glitch ability as her special power-up to win, but she did.

Why _did_ it bother her so much that the president had good luck? She should be happy for her, having an actual life now and surrounded by love and friendship. But maybe some of that old hatred still remained in her...her hatred for the 'glitch'. The well-known saying, "Old habits die hard", perhaps had a ring of truth to it.

What would Vanellope think if she knew that Taffyta longed to see the now dead, fraudulent monarch again? What would the others think? How would they feel knowing that she was tore up inside, screaming for a release. She wanted her old life back, but that felt so horrible to say, so she'd make herself wish that her past and present lives would converge into one big happily ever after.

What was wrong with her? Was she a monster in thinking this way?

And so she cut.

She would always hold it in until after the arcade had closed, and when she had some alone time. She'd sit in her pretty pink bathroom and stand over her sink, carefully pressing the blade to the backside of her forearm. A few dots of blood would bubble forth, and then a whole line of it would appear. She scared herself at how fascinated she would be with the spectacle, watching her anger and depression leak from her in such a horrific manner.

It didn't hurt as much as it used to. If anything, the initial sting felt orgasmic in a way.

Taffyta was thankful that she, and the others, had been programmed to wear jackets, or some other form of long-sleeved attire. The scars would only vanish if she were to 'game over' and regenerate, or if by chance the game got reset again. If any of the others were to ever see...if anyone were to find out...Mod, the last thing she wanted was Vanellope or someone else bombarding her with pity and attempting to seek 'professional help' for her.

She didn't have a problem. She could control herself. She hadn't cut too deep, she always made sure she remained calm while doing it. It wasn't like she was suicidal or anything.

And then after she'd had her pent-up frustrations expelled from her body, she would wash away the evidence, wrap her arm, slip on her jacket, and go outside to find Candlehead or Rancis to challenge them to a race. They'd see her smile, and they'd be none the wiser.

Taffyta Muttonfudge was _just fine._


End file.
